


In this Universe

by 3Hazels



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, First Meetings, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-04
Updated: 2018-07-30
Packaged: 2019-06-05 06:23:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15164576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/3Hazels/pseuds/3Hazels
Summary: He can’t. He shouldn’t. He mustn’t. But he wants to. He wants to ask her out, get her name, know her coffee order, get her flowers and wash her clothes in branded fabric softeners that won’t chafe her cheeks as she rubs them with her too long sleeves.





	1. 05:45 AM

**Author's Note:**

> First attempt at a modern setting AU triggered by my current obsession with Grey’s Anatomy, and inspired by incognitajones’s Last Train.
> 
> This may turn into a short multichap fic so I’m leaving the chapter count open for now.

05:45 AM

 

It’s her fifth nightshift, which means she’s got one more to go before switching back to dayshifts for two weeks. Tonight was a bad night, he could tell. Her bright hazel eyes are red rimmed, her nose and cheeks rubbed raw by the rough weave of her wool sweater. Her hair, usually tied in three neat buns, is a thundercloud of curls. Everything about her is wild and barely contained, making him wonder if their skin would spark if he dared touch her.

 

For six months he’s watched her rock back and fourth with the gentle sway of the subway carriage. Sometimes she falls asleep, sometimes she reads or listens to music. Today she just stares, eyes unfocused as she gazes at her own warped reflection in the window to his left. He’s not sure if she’s a nurse or doctor, all he’s been able to deduce so far is that she works at St Jude’s Hospital and lives out by the docks. Her daily commute a solid forty minutes. Twenty five in his presence.

 

For reasons unknown even to himself, Ben can’t stop watching her. He tries not to make it too obvious or, God forbid, too creepy. Given her stature and features she looks to be in her early to mid twenties, making her about a decade younger than himself. Ben tries not to dwell on that. Her skin is tan and freckled - not like his, sporadic and sparse - but vast and numerous, head to toe. Like so many galaxies, it would take a lifetime of summers to count them all. He wished he could.

 

He can’t. He shouldn’t. He mustn’t. But he wants to. He wants to ask her out, get her name, know her coffee order, get her flowers and wash her clothes in branded fabric softeners that won’t chafe her cheeks as she rubs them with her too long sleeves. Jesus. He really, _really_ shouldn’t do any of that. So he watches. Watches her sad little nose crinkle as she sniffles and swipes away rogue drips and tears. The lady next to her starts rummaging in her cotton bag and produces a crumpled pack of tissues. Wordlessly she takes the girl’s hand and presses the tissues into her palm before curling her fingers around them. The smile she receives in return is heartbreaking in its wobbly brightness. All gums and teeth and shining eyes. Ben clears his throat and presses a hand to his chest in an effort to relief the sudden tightness. Good God, she’s killing him and doesn’t even know it.

 

For a shameful moment Ben considers throwing himself down on the floor of the carriage to fake a sudden illness, but then his brain catches up with his heart and he remembers he’s a scholar, a PHD candidate, _a grown ass man_. His cheeks burn. Get a grip.

 

The disembodied voice of the subway line announces the next stop - her stop. Keeping his head tilted down as if gazing at his hands currently grasping the briefcase in his lap, he carefully watches her get up and say a quiet goodbye to the friendly lady to her left. As she passes him on her way out, he catches a whiff of something sharp and clean, like mellowed hand sanitiser. He briefly wonders what she would smell like if she didn’t come straight from the hospital. Sweet and flowery, or perhaps something subtler like honey or vanilla. He watches her walk across the platform with hunched shoulders and arms wrapped tight around her torso. He hopes tonight will be better.

 

 

***

 

He can’t believe the difference. If yesterday was a storm, today she is sunny skies and midday heat. Her legs are crossed and her feet are tapping out a rhythmic beat that matches the bob of her head. Her lips form silent words as she mouths along to the song in her head. In a parallel universe he is sitting beside her, his thigh pressed against hers, his thumb tapping out the beat of her music on the back of her hand as he holds it in his lap. Her head would be resting against his shoulder and every now and then he would lean over to press soft kisses against the crown of her head. In a parallel universe, he would whisper words of love against every freckle his mouth could reach, no matter if she heard them or not. Her skin would know his touch and hold his love like summer rain on soft, brown earth. Once again he presses a hand to his chest, inhaling deeply in an attempt to fill the black void crushing his bones from the inside out. In this universe, he is sitting three seats down from her on the opposite side of the carriage. In this universe, her head is turning and their eyes meet for the first time in six months.

She’s blushing as she smiles at him, tilting her head down as she shyly tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. The smile never leaves her face as her eyes flick back to his and he holds her gaze until his ears burn and his chest constricts with lack of air and oxygen.

 

Paralysed with sudden nerves, Ben whips his head away from her and stares wide eyed at his reflection in the curved window in front of him. He looks flushed and somewhat spooked. His hair is wild as always, his goatee untrimmed. His right cheek is dimpled as he bites down on the soft tissue inside. White noise fills his head as he scrambles to compose himself and come up with some sort of plan of where to go from here. What now? _What now?_ Get a grip, Solo. He feels like he’s been caught doing things he shouldn’t. Like looking at this gorgeous young woman is somehow taboo for him. Like in that moment their eyes met she could somehow divine all his secret musings about her and their parallel universe. Was he creepy? Was her smile a good, friendly smile or was it a nervous ‘try-to-shake-off-the-creepy-man’ smile? He risks another glance.

 

She’s moving.

 

She’s moving _towards him_.

 

She’s still smiling, but it’s a tentative, shy little curve. He watches her step around his long legs and, incredibly, settle back down in the empty seat on his right. She’s wrapping her earphones around her phone and tucking it in the front pocket of her shoulder bag. Dumbfounded, Ben just openly stares at her as she settles her hands in her lap and tilts her head up to meet his gaze. Her smile broadens, all gums and teeth again.

 

“I’m Rey”, she says. _She’s British_.

 

Ben swallows hard, then clears his throat as he shifts in his seat.

 

“I...um, I’m Ben.”


	2. 05:25 AM

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey has feelings - none of them pure.

05:25 AM

 

Rey can’t quite grasp what possessed her to act on this sudden impulse. For two months now she has been perfectly content to just sit and observe, to look when no one else is looking, to notice what no one else seems to notice. He’s tall - so, _so tall_ \- and kind of strange looking, but in the very best way. His hair is always wild, unkempt and almost shoulder length. His straggling goatee has been going through various phases of ‘I just forgot to trim it this weekend’ to ‘I’ve been lost at sea for four weeks’. Everything about him, from his rumpled clothes to his mismatched features, seems to tell a story of broiling energy. Like a tsunami far out at sea, something inside her calls out to be the shore that breaks his tidal wave, to be crushed and stripped bare by the sheer force of his being. Her stomach muscles clench at the thought, thighs squeezing tight as she firmly crosses her legs next to his. In this moment, as her eyes drown in his butterscotch gaze, she feels utterly unhinged.

 

Taking one last fortifying breath, she smiles brightly as she answers his siren call.

 

“I’m Rey.”

 

Her smile tilts with sudden amusement at his obvious squirming, watching him subconsciously shift towards her.

 

“I...um, I’m Ben.”

 

 _Ben_.

 

And, oh God, his _voice_. Rey’s eyes momentarily loose focus as her gaze drops to watch his luscious lips stumble over his shy introduction.

 

There is something so appealing about this perfect juxtaposition of timid nerves and delicious masculinity that it stokes every primal and wicked part of her. Rey has never thought of herself as a particularly passionate or carnal person, but right now, she wants to _break him_ until those same lips sob her name.

 

Ben.

 

Ben and Rey.

 

She likes the sound of that.

 

“You know, I’ve noticed we share a lot of the same commutes, and I—”

 

“You have?”, he interrupts suddenly. He looks stunned and, inexplicably, contrite? How could someone as big and gorgeous as him feel surprised at being noticed? And on top of that, feel almost apologetic about it? Her heart aches with the sudden realisation that at some point in his life, Ben has been made to feel less than what he is. Eyes wide and lips slightly parted, he has no idea the effect he has on her. Everything in her softens. The world may have hardened her shell, but it has crumbled his.

 

“Yes. Every time.”

 

Her eyes flicker between his, taking in his stunned silence until his eyes avert from hers and he takes another shuddering breath. Absentmindedly she counts his freckles until his face turns back to hers, full of warmth and a dimpled smile. Her cheeks ache as her smile brightens to match his.

 

“So, if you’re not to busy, would you like to go for coffee?”

 

His voice is steady and velvety smooth, his pupils blown wide enough she can see the subway lights flicker in their depths, as he replies:

 

“Yes. I’d like that.”

 

And just like that, they have broken the first wave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this chapter is really short, and this story isn’t moving anywhere fast, but I just love to muse about love at first sight. Please indulge me.


End file.
